It works on so many levels, but for practical purposes, we’ll focus on the easy two. On one level, the seniors are reading Camus’s The Stranger, which I would like to argue is an existential book, but Camus himself argues that it’s a book of the absurd. Hard to go against that.
We just started the book, but today I was going over Camus’s definition of the absurd. It included the deadening routine that we face daily, the idea of time passing as a destructive element, and the feeling of isolation in a sea of people. I know that’s not the cheeriest of topics to fill a class period with, but, when asking students to relate to them, it becomes a little clearer.
Hello, deadening routine. Perhaps the ringing of a bell will snap us out of our slumber.
Good afternoon, time passing. Guess what? We are never going to get that time back again.
Welcome, isolation. Glad to see you–we’ve all felt so . . . alone.
A little hyperbole, sure, but students had all been there in some form or another.
As for me, I try to keep it positive with the existential slant that IS coming in the book. I quote Shakespeare through Iago, and tell students that “‘Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners.”
But, oh, that deadening routine.
Enough of this–it’s too quick a reminder of what I was reminded of twice today.
You knew this song was coming.